


Improper Fractions

by CloudAtlas



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Sex, BAMF Natasha Romanov, Blow Jobs, Face-Fucking, Hair-pulling, Multi, POV Bucky Barnes, Pegging, Piercings, Tattooed Bucky Barnes, Tattooed Natasha Romanov, Thirsty Bucky Barnes, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:15:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23519821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CloudAtlas/pseuds/CloudAtlas
Summary: The rent on Natasha's and Bucky's unit has gone up, so illegally subletting Nat's room is a totally logical course of action. No way it could backfire at all, the dude's a math teacher after all.And yet.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 71
Kudos: 430





	Improper Fractions

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when the hottest smut I've read in a while ([Art Nouveau by voluptuous_panic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19385584)) collides with the cutest meet-cute novel I've ever read (Flatshare by Beth O'Leary) in my brain. I want to blame **gsparkle** and **inkvoices** , but it's 100% my fault.
> 
> Beta'd by **inkvoices**.

It had been a great idea – simple, elegant. A neat solution to an annoying problem. Natasha would move into his room and they’d (illegally) sublet her room for a year. The rent on their unit had been raised and he and Natasha had a great friends with benefits thing going on anyway, so it worked, and the dude they found was a _high school math teacher_. Great! Brilliant! Apart from –

“You want to bang him like a screen door.”

“I’m not gay,” Bucky says reflexively.

Natasha raises an eyebrow and rolls her hips, making him moan. “I’d noticed that, actually.”

She clenches down, hard, and Bucky sees stars.

“Bisexuals exist, Barnes,” she continues, nonchalant, like he’s not in the middle of fucking her.

“Yeah, but – ”

“Yeah but nothing, Barnes. You want in that tight ass.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything.

“Or,” Natasha continues, “you want him in yours?”

He can’t hide how his dick twitches at that comment, not when he’s balls deep inside Natasha.

“Interesting,” she says.

The thing is – _the thing is_ – Clint Barton doesn’t look like any high school teacher Bucky ever had.

He’s – he’s _tall_ , to start with. Which. That sounds stupid: all Bucky’s high school teachers must have been taller than him, seeing as he’d hit his growth spurt closer to eighteen than he’d’ve liked. But he’s five eleven now and Barton is _taller than him_.

He also looks like he’s made of sunshine.

See, Bucky and Natasha? They run a tattoo parlour. It’d been Natasha's dream since they were kids and it wasn’t like people wanted to hire Bucky after three years for aggravated assault (fucker was _preying on young girls,_ Bucky has no regrets) and he’s always had steady hands. But also, he just likes it, so he’s got two full sleeves and a full back piece, and his chest piece is filling in nicely and he’s probably gonna start on his thighs soon and… he’s got dark hair, okay? Shoulder length, and he’s not really all that bothered about shaving. So he’s… dark.

(Natasha, on the other hand, is a study in contrasts. She’s _so pale_ , but her hair and lipstick are red, and she has full sleeves, ravens curling across her ribs and a wolf in the crease of her thigh that Bucky likes to trace with his tongue.)

But Barton is blond and – there’s just _so much skin_ , untouched and tanned and –

Okay, Bucky knows this because Barton once came barrelling down the stairs late for work, coffee in one hand and shirt in the other, desperately looking for his messenger bag and shoes and whatever else he’d misplaced. And Bucky had just sat, frozen, on the couch because – _fuck_.

Fuck.

Bucky’s been doing a back piece for this guy called Quill for weeks now. He wants space. Lots and lots of space. And also cassette tapes and more 80s music references than Bucky thinks one man needs, but hey, it’s not his money – and today was the last day. Final shading, final lines. It looks fucking brilliant, even if he does say so himself, but he stayed late to finish it up and all he wants is to collapse into bed, maybe fool around with Nat some, but instead…

Instead he finds Nat in their Fuck Me shirt – they share it – laughing on the couch with Clint Barton. Clint Barton in _sweats_.

Christ. Barton manspreads like the worst kind of New Yorker and Bucky would complain, he really would, apart from he kinda wants to get down on his knees and – well, he’s never sucked a dick before, but he feels like he could definitely give it a go.

“It’s spring break,” Natasha tells him later, once they’re both in bed. “He’s gonna be around for a week.”

Bucky grunts.

“He’s nice,” Natasha continues. “Only looked at my tits a couple of times.”

“He’s an idiot, you mean,” Bucky replies, idly groping one of the tits in question. “They’re quality tits and you _wanted_ him to look.”

The Fuck Me shirt has no sides. She practically busts out of it whenever she moves and, okay, she was wearing a bra today, but it was the balcony bra that barely covers her nipple piercings. It hardly counts.

She shrugs and slides a hand into his sleep shorts. She pulls, two firm strokes, and he arches into her touch.

“If you don’t go for it, I will.”

Something clenches in Bucky’s gut and Natasha's laser focus settles on his face. She must see something there she doesn’t like because she says, “You’re the idiot, Barnes.”

And he’d disagree with her but, well.

Because Barton’s a math teacher he doesn’t have five hundred essays to grade, but he _does_ spend two days mainlining coffee while he goes through the same fifteen algebra questions over and over again. Bucky knows this because his fancy coffee disappears. And also because Barton complains about it at any given opportunity.

But then he turns up at the shop – and is Bucky regretting the fact that their apartment is above their shop? _Maybe_ – in a washed out Iowa Hawkeyes t-shirt and jeans so tight and low Bucky nearly swallows his tongue. He’s supposed to be a _teacher_. What the _hell_.

“Want a tat?” Natasha asks, pointing a tattoo gun at him like it’d do a fucking thing.

Barton laughs but shakes his head.

“A piercing then?” she continues. “Barnes here is handy with a needle.”

Bucky glares at her, sure she’s trying to make some kind of innuendo but not sure what it could be.

“Nah,” Barton replies, dropping himself into the office chair Wanda usually uses. “I’m just sick of algebra.”

The chair is too low for him, too small for him. He makes it look like a throne, denim tight over his thighs.

Bucky looks away.

Natasha hums. “Well, if you change your mind, let me know. I’ve got ideas.” And then she saunters into the back, and Barton’s eyes follow her the entire way because she’s in fishnets and short shorts and Docs and Bucky wants to kill her.

But then Barton looks over at him and says, “What you working on?” and Bucky doesn’t have the brain power to reply so he just turns the paper around so Barton can see the design; Leda and the swan, with lilies and bulrushes and a mantle of stars.

“Pretty,” Barton says, but he’s not looking at the design when he says it.

The problem Bucky has, really, is that he has no idea how to tell the guy he’s illegally renting a room to that, while he hasn’t actually slept with anyone other than Natasha for nearly two years, they aren’t really a thing in the strictest terms, and would Barton mind terribly if Bucky were to sit on his dick?

“I mean,” Natasha says, three fingers in his ass, “you could just say that.”

“I don’t think – _ngg_ – that would work?”

“Why not?” she replies, all reasonableness.

“Do we – _fuck_ – even know if he likes – oh _god_ – guys?”

Natasha pulls her fingers out and stares at him. Then she starts laughing.

“You really are an idiot,” she says, and then she lines her dick up and Bucky can’t really think of anything else for a while.

“How about here?” Natasha says, pressing one red nail to Barton’s lower lip.

Barton shakes his head, but he’s grinning. He hasn’t changed his mind about piercings, but Natasha is nothing if not persistent.

“Here?” She drags a finger across his right eyebrow.

“Nope.”

She taps a nail against her teeth. The same nail that was only moments before pressed against Barton’s mouth.

Bucky’s not jealous of a _nail_. That would be ridiculous.

“Here,” she says finally, grinning as she clicks her tongue piercing against her teeth.

Barton smiles and shakes his head. “I’m a teacher, have you forgotten?”

“So it has to be hidden,” she retorts, and then gives Barton’s chest a significant look.

“I’m not getting my nipples pierced,” Barton says with a laugh, and Bucky’s brain shorts out at the way the word ‘nipples’ sounds on his tongue. Wanda gives him a very significant look. Bucky ignores her.

“Why not?” Natasha asks. “It feels good. Doesn’t it, Barnes?”

Bucky has to look like a startled rabbit, ‘cause he sure as hell feels like one.

Barton’s eyes are very blue.

“Why’re you asking me?” he mumbles eventually. “You know. You’ve got ‘em too.”

Natasha grins at him, wolfish.

“How about that, Barton. We’d all match.”

Natasha Romanov is a menace. That’s the only explanation Bucky can think of when he comes into the kitchen to find Clint Barton leaning on the table in such a way as to make every muscle in his back stand out in sharp relief. And – oh God – there are _freckles_.

Did Bucky mention he was shirtless? Because he’s shirtless. And there’s Natasha with the Fuck Me shirt on again. Apart from, this time, there’s no bra in sight. Bucky stares into the beady eye of Huginn or Muninn – he can never remember which raven is which – from where it judges him from across Natasha's ribs.

This is – this cannot be happening.

“And then what happened?” Natasha says delightedly. She crosses her arms and her shirt bunches around her breasts and Bucky has to swallow and look away. He really wasn’t lying; Natasha's tits are magnificent.

Christ, this feels like a set up.

“Well,” Barton says with apparent relish, “this, actually.” And he fishes his phone from the pocket of his (obscenely low) sweats, messes on it for a couple of seconds, and then passes it to Natasha, all the muscles in his back rippling at the movement. Bucky almost swallows his tongue.

Whatever she sees on there has her in stitches and Barton looks _incredibly_ pleased with himself, but when she hands the phone back he levers himself off the barstool.

“Anyway,” he says, “gotta see a man about a horse.”

As he passes Bucky, he smiles.

“Mornin’, Barnes,” he says, and pats him on the chest. Like that’s _normal_. Like he didn’t accidentally catch a nail on Bucky’s nipple piercing. Like Bucky’s not two seconds away from his knees giving out.

What the fuck. _What the fuck_.

“Are you listening to me, Barnes?” Natasha says once Barton’s gone, fingers tight on his chin so he can’t look away.

Bucky nods.

“You have two options. The first option is that you grow a pair and talk to Clint like a fucking adult.” Her eyes bore into his and her fingers tighten even more. “The second option is I put you on your knees and that’s it; you do exactly what I say.”

Bucky didn’t even notice getting hard. All he can hope is that it happened _after_ Barton had left, though let’s be honest, the chances are low.

Christ, he can’t think.

“What’ll it be, Barnes?”

“I wanna wreck him,” Barton says, voice like whiskey over ice.

“Yeah,” Natasha says, “he’s like that.”

Bucky feels drunk, like he’d tip right over apart from Barton’s hand is fisted in his hair and he can’t go anywhere.

He picked option two. Of course he picked option two. Like he was going to pick anything else.

“Built like a fucking tank,” Barton continues. “Jesus Christ.” He presses a thumb against Bucky’s lips and Bucky lets him in, easy as anything.

“He’s getting better at cocksucking,” Natasha says, matter of fact. “We’ve been practicing. He loves it.”

He really, really does.

“You wanna suck my dick, Barnes?” Barton asks, all quiet command and, when Bucky doesn’t answer, his hand tightens in his hair. Bucky whines.

“Answer me.”

Bucky manages to push out a ‘yeah’, slurred against his thumb.

Normally – normally he’s better at this. Barton makes him stupid.

Barton lets go of his hair and, predictably, Bucky almost topples, catching himself just in time on Barton’s thighs. He looks up, dazed, and finds Natasha’s gaze. She’s come around from behind him to lean over Barton’s shoulder, and she’s grinning like a fucking shark.

“Go on then,” she says, while she slides a hand down Barton's chest. “Hop to it.”

Barton is wearing sweats, which Bucky would probably find suspicious if he had even the slightest bit of higher brainpower available for that kind of thought. As it is, he’s mostly just distantly alarmed at the size of Barton's dick, which isn’t huge but is definitely bigger than the dildo Natasha normally uses. Tastes different too – less latex-y, which. Shit. They should probably be using condoms.

Oh well, Bucky thinks as he tries to take more and almost chokes. Too late now.

Barton is panting above him and it’s heady, the feeling of power Bucky gets. But more than that, he’s kinda just addicted to the weight on his tongue. Christ, he does filthy things with Natasha literally _all the time_ but this is making his fucking head swim.

He tries to take more, chokes again. Hmm. More practice needed.

“Fuck, you look good,” Barton says and Bucky looks up. Big fucking mistake.

Barton's sat like their shitty couch is a throne and Natasha's pulling his t-shirt up under his armpits. And _fuck_ , there’s a whole lot of untouched skin on display. But then it gets worse because she’s wrapping her hand around his jaw, dragging him toward her with his chin clamped between red nails and shoving her tongue halfway down his throat. It’s filthy, obscene. He can see tongue and hear the wet slide and the click of Natasha's piercing against Barton's teeth and Jesus fucking Christ, Bucky has the man’s dick tickling his tonsils and he’s _still_ fucking jealous.

And then Natasha finger-walks her free hand down Barton's chest and into Bucky’s hair, tugging him closer like she doesn’t care if he can’t breathe _._ Eyes slipping shut again, Bucky moans, which makes Barton moan and his hips hitch, and suddenly Bucky’s drooling everywhere, making a mess, and Barton's making these little bitten off sounds that go right to his dick and fuck. There’s a pounding in Bucky’s skull that says _yes, yes this_ and he honestly just wants to live here forever.

And then Barton says, “Christ I’m – ” and Natasha pulls him of Barton's dick with rough hands and there’s the filthiest, sloppiest sound and Bucky’s practically panting for breath, so hard and turned on he feels _drunk_.

“This is what’s going to happen,” Natasha says, at least two octaves lower than usual and authoritative enough that Barton's hand stills before reaching his dick. “You, sweet boy, are going to get me off.” She fixes Bucky with a look that says _at least twice or else_ before continuing, “While you,” – she hooks a finger into Barton's mouth and pulls, just a little, until he’s looking at her – “are going to get him ready, nice and thorough. And _then_ ,” she says, standing to reveal the Fuck Me shirt caught between her breasts and her shorts open at the fly, “Bucky’s going to fuck me and Clint is going to fuck Bucky and if we’re not all an incoherent messes by the end of it I’m going to be really fucking disappointed.”

Bucky’s an incoherent mess well before the end.

He manages to wring one orgasm out of Natasha, but then Barton quits using his fingers to open him up and starts using his mouth and Bucky fucking astral projects right out of his fucking body. It’s transcendental, it’s fucking life altering. It feels so fucking good that if Bucky didn’t need his hands under him, to prevent him literally crushing Natasha into the bed, he’d be grabbing Barton's hair to force him deeper into his ass.

Shit. He’s a slutty bottom. Well, go fucking figure – he always preferred Natasha being in charge so it’s not that much of surprise.

Barton does something infernal with his tongue and Bucky fucking _keens_.

“Much as I’d love to watch Bucky come untouched,” Natasha says breathlessly, “I’d like to get fucked some time tonight.”

Barton pulls away and Bucky whines. He manages to peel his eyelids open to find that he’s basically slumped into the mattress between Natasha's legs, close enough that he can feel the brush of her fingers as she gets herself off. All he can see is her thigh and the tattooed expanse of his arm lying uselessly under her knee. He tries to move, but all his muscles have turned to rubber.

“Holy fuck,” he croaks.

Barton hums and palms his ass, making Bucky gasp.

“Quit it,” Natasha says with a laugh. “Get up here.”

She pulls on Bucky’s shoulders and, somehow, he manages to get his jellied limbs to cooperate, dragging himself into some semblance of an upright position long enough for Natasha to slip a condom on him. Her brief touch is almost too much, and he has to screw his eyes shut and breathe deliberately for a little while before he’s sure he isn’t going to shoot off early and ruin the entire party. Because that would suck.

When he opens him eyes again Natasha’s grinning at him like a Cheshire fucking cat, smug as hell.

“C’mere, Barnes,” she says, dragging him in by the shoulders and lining him up.

She’s one long, hot slide, and it’s so close and wet and overwhelming that Bucky’s back to screwing his eyes up, mouth open and panting. And Natasha, because she’s a fucking menace, takes advantage and pushes her fingers into his mouth so the taste of her explodes across his tongue.

Barton lets out a quiet but emphatic, “ _Fuck_.”

“Yeah?” Natasha says, and Bucky doesn’t have to see her to know she’s got that mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Hell yeah,” Barton replies. And then Bucky feels the blunt head of Barton’s dick press against his hole and Bucky’s sanity dribbles out of his ears until all that’s left is the irresistible feeling of fullness, the stretch and the ache, so overwhelming there isn’t space for anything else.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” he gasps, trying to relax and push back and fucking burst into flame all at the same time. “Christ.”

His hands twist into the sheets as the force of Barton's thrusts fuck him straight into Natasha. She gasps and digs her nails into his back, which just ratchets everything up another notch. Endless beautiful agony, it feels like. Motherfucking _Christ_.

“God,” Barton says, low and full of wonder, “you love it, don’t you? Need it so bad. Fuck, Barnes. Fucking begging for it.”

And he is; a constant litany of mumbled pleas and entreaties falling from his lips without conscious thought. He hadn’t even noticed, too wrapped up in the burning stretch of Barton bleeding into the hot clutch of Natasha.

He whines. God. _God_. This is how he dies.

And then Barton leans over him, a slow, dirty grind, and Natasha catches his chin in her hand and drags him to her mouth barely an inch from Bucky’s face, and the angle of Barton inside him changes and – shit, fuck. That’s it – Bucky’s gone.

It takes what feels like forever for Bucky’s neurons to start firing again. He registers Barton pulling out (by whining) and Natasha rolling him on to his back (also by whining), pulling him out of her in the process. Then there’s just an indeterminable smear of time where Bucky swims out among the stars and galaxies, his muscles pleasantly sore, until a rhythmic rocking motion brings him back to earth.

He forces his eyes open and is rewarded by the sight of Natasha scoring lines down Barton’s back with red nails while Barton fucks into her with the kind of determination that means he’s _very close_ and also _very insistent_ that Natasha comes before him. It’s _unreasonably_ hot, especially as the birds and wild flowers on Natasha's arms stand out starkly against Barton’s sun-kissed skin. And god, his _freckles_. Bucky wants to lick them. As soon as he can feel his limbs again.

Bucky rolls slightly towards them as Barton pushes himself up far enough to get a hand to Natasha’s clit, and she comes with a gasp, seemingly dragging Barton after her. Their faces scrunch up in ecstasy, which Bucky always thought was a dumb phrase but hey, look at that; it does happen.

“Fuck,” Barton pants out, pressing a sloppy kiss to Natasha's open mouth before collapsing into the sliver of space between them, his sweaty arm a burning stripe alongside Bucky’s. “Fucking hell.”

He ties off his condom and throws it in the direction of the trash before turning to look at Bucky.

“You back with us yet?”

Bucky makes a half-hearted so-so gesture, not yet with it enough to speak, and Barton grins, smugly self-satisfied. Then, as Bucky watches, it slides from smug to dangerous and, before he even registers what’s going on, Barton slides his hand over Bucky’s thigh and between his legs, pushing up and _in_ to where he’s wet and open and punching out of Bucky the most whorish moan he’s ever vocalised.

“Oh God,” Bucky pants, hitching his knee over Barton's leg to give him better access. “Jesus _Christ_.”

“Could just push right back in again,” Barton says, like he’s thinking about it.

“ _Please_.”

“Whaddya doing?” Natasha slurs.

“He’s all wet and open,” Barton says, conspiratorially. He twists his fingers as much as he’s able and Bucky keens.

“Wanna see,” Natasha mumbles and she clearly manages to drag herself upright because the next thing Bucky knows her weight is collapsing across both his and Barton's hips. Her breath fans across his dick and then – oh _god_ – her fingers join Barton's and Jesus Christ he’s gonna die. This is how he’s gonna die. Just right here, in his own bed, his best friend and their lodger with their fingers up his ass.

His lodger, _who is a math teacher_. What the _fuck_.

“You know what you should do, Buck?” Natasha says, conversationally, like she wasn’t just fucked to orgasm two minutes ago. Bucky hates her.

He makes a sound that could charitably be described as ‘what?’ 

“You should get pierced _here_ ,” and she presses _hard_ into his taint. “It’d be cute.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Bucky pants as Barton screws his fingers even further into Bucky, causing his dick to valiantly try to restart proceedings despite Bucky not having nearly enough energy or brainpower for that right now, “can you _not_?”

He’s not even sure if he’s protesting Natasha's causal airing of his kinks or Barton's relentless fingers. Not that he’s _against_ either necessarily, just maybe not while his brain is still dribbling out of his ears. He needs _some_ recovery time. Unfortunately.

“Not into it?” she says mischievously, knowing full well he is, but she laughs when he whines again and removes her fingers, taking Barton's with her and mercifully leaving him be for the moment.

Bucky stares at the ceiling, attempting to catch his breath and corral his thoughts into some semblance of sense. He just had a threesome with his best friend and their lodger, who is a _math teacher_. When did his life become a porno? He’s not sure.

After a moment, completely oblivious to Bucky’s spiralling thoughts, Barton turns to press into his side, tangling their legs together and pushing his nose against Bucky’s shoulder and, a little while after that, Natasha flings the covers across them before winding her arms around Barton's waist. So Bucky decides he can work out when his life became a porno later. He’s too comfortable right now.

He closes his eyes, and it doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep.

Barton – Bucky should probably call him Clint now, seeing as his tongue has been in Bucky’s ass, but he’s not gonna – orders them pizza later that night, and over pepperoni slices he fixes Bucky and Natasha with a curious gaze.

“How long have you two been together, anyway?” he asks.

“We’re not together,” Natasha and Bucky say at the same time, Natasha apparently rather distracted by whatever rom-com she’s found on Netflix. Or maybe it’s _Magic Mike_? Those look like Channing Tatum’s abs.

Barton stares at them. He then stares at them some more before laughing loud enough to tear Natasha away from all that gyrating manflesh.

“What?” she says, while Bucky looks at him curiously, mouth full of cheesy goodness.

“Oh, nothing,” Barton says with a blinding grin. “Apparently I’m just constantly surrounded by idiots. Which is funny, ‘cause I’m _me_.”

And then he misses his mouth taking a swig of his drink and pours beer all over his lap.

Bucky has willingly slept with this man. And he’s a _math teacher_.

What the _fuck._

**Author's Note:**

> Hashtag quarantine horny.
> 
> **ETA 01.07.2020:** [now with a sequel](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25000141).


End file.
